


in the days of war

by lucycamui



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Romance, fighting to express their feelings, inappropriate use of the monastery bathouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: During the nights spent back at Garreg Mach, Sylvain has trouble sleeping and finds that so does Felix. With stakes and tensions high at a time of war, a confrontation regarding Felix's incautious training leads down new paths...
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 186





	in the days of war

The number of nights on which Sylvain found it difficult to sleep had spiked over the course of the last five years. He had thought, perhaps foolishly, that a return to Garreg Mach would ease his conscience and take them all back to the more carefree days of the Academy. War had a way of infecting everything, from the number of bandits that needed to be driven away from the monastery walls to the meals Ashe and Mercedes made with their rations, to the cost of the steel they needed to forge their weapons. It infected his dreams, too. They flashed with images of men impaled on his lance and the rust of blood that built up in the crevices of his armor. 

Sylvain took the long way around the monastery, letting the moon guide him past the greenhouse and fishing pond. The golden glow that would sometimes show itself above the water had long been missing, and Sylvain wondered if it required the blessing of the goddess to return. The night guards stood at attention by the front gates and Sylvain made his way quietly past them toward the stables. The first night back at Garreg Mach, he had seen Ingrid inside them, muffling sobs over the bones she had found in place of the animals she had once cared for. He had left her there and never mentioned it, knowing that she would not admit to a moment of understandable weakness. They were all knights now, whether they wanted it or not. 

Eventually, Sylvain found himself before the rubble inside the church. The pews were empty and his footsteps echoed as he walked, wondering what it was that Dimitri stared at there, day upon day. The same hauntings that Sylvain saw in his dreams, no doubt, only they refused to let Dimitri out of their clutches even in the daylight. The number of ghosts that chased them increased day after day. 

Sylvain had thought—they all had thought—that Dedue’s return would bring Dimitri back from the brink. To hope for one miracle on top of another had been too much, it seemed. They had already been graced with what felt like too many. They had thought Dedue to be lost just as Dimitri had been lost, like the professor had been lost. Yet their allies kept rejoining them and bringing hope back to a once hopeless struggle. House Fraldarius was rumored to be sending aid, the little that they could spare. Eldegard’s forces were being driven back, her generals eliminated one by one. With a bit of luck, the war would end with some semblance of the nations still intact. 

When Sylvain passed the training grounds, the sound of metal striking metal coming from within them was enough for him to know exactly who else was out at such an ungodly hour. There was only one fool who would channel a heavy conscience into training while the rest of their army slept. 

Sylvain thought it was a shame that Felix had not let his hair grow longer since their school days. It would have been mesmerizing, whipping around him as he fought. Felix had left the oil lamps surrounding the ground unlit, his opponent illuminated by the moonlight overhead. The sword in his hand struck repeatedly at a wooden dummy meant for hand-to-hand combat, carving slivers out of it with each and every strike. His blade flashed its speed in the dim light, pace unwavering despite the heavy breathing Sylvain could hear coming from him. Knowing Felix, he would be rounding at least an hour, going nonstop until he was too exhausted to stand. 

The dull and grating ringing of a sword striking steel sounded again when Felix’s blade made contact with one of the rings holding the wooden dummy together. The force was enough to knock the sword from Felix’s hand, scraping it across the ground to just out of reach. With a shout, Felix thrust out a trembling hand and lightning struck. 

The Thoron spell briefly lit everything in blinding white, obliterating the dummy into smoking splinters. Only black char marks remained in the spot where it had stood seconds earlier. 

Sylvain strode in across the training grounds, picking up Felix’s sword and carrying it back to him. He pretended not to notice how Felix was gasping, chest moving rapidly as his lungs struggled to catch air. Using that spell when already sapped of energy would take a toll. “You’re going to wake everyone up with that one.”

Felix snatched his sword out of Sylvain’s hand, sheathing it. He stood up straight, shoulders back in the proper posture they were made to practice together as kids, his signature scowl biting at his lips. Sylvain did not know when—or if—it would come, but he longed for the day the rare smile might grace Felix’s handsome face again. 

“They’ll be fine,” Felix said, using the side of his boot to scrape charred embers to where the practice dummy had stood. He never was one to leave the training grounds a mess, as diligent with maintenance as he was with the rest of his regimen. “Hasn’t bothered anyone on any other night.”

Bending down, Felix went to pick up smaller splinters hiding in the dirt, but flinched the moment he made contact. He gritted through it, tossing the chips of wood into the building pile and grabbing others in his efforts to clean the grounds of the damage he had caused. 

Sylvain helped, keeping unnaturally quiet, until they finished. When Felix snapped around, no doubt to ask why he was here, Sylvain grabbed Felix’s right wrist and jerked him in so he could look closely at his hand. 

The skin on Felix’s fingertips was raw, the irritation visible even under the limited light cast down by the moon. Webbed red marks followed Felix’s nerves down his palm and to his wrist, leaving behind scars that would only grow worse with continued use. Certain powerful magic had a way of marking those that abused it, carving a permanent reminder of the toll it took. Felix was still far too young to bear the scars of the Thoron spell. “You’re overdoing it.”

Felix tried to jerk his hand away, but Sylvain held firm, refusing to let him go. “Fuck off, Sylvain.”

“You’re not good with magic,” Sylvain said, turning over Felix’s palm. The back of his hand was marred as well. The red marks left by the spell would fade soon, but they would continue to build until Felix’s hand was left disfigured by them. It would take years and someone good with Faith magic could slow the progression, but the only way to stop it completely was to quit using the spell. Felix had never been much of a quitter. 

“I’m better with that spell than anyone else here,” Felix answered, standing his ground. “It’s not that bad.”

“Let me heal it.”

Felix scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If I needed it, I’d ask Mercedes.”

“Ask her in the morning then.”

“Let go, Sylvain,” Felix warned, pulling back on his arm, “before I cast it on you.”

Sylvain did let go, but not before he raised Felix’s hand up and pressed his lips to the center of his Thoron-blemished palm. 

Felix tore his hand away from Sylvain, his cheeks burning hot as he stumbled back a step out of shock. “What are you—I’m not one of your girls, Sylvain!”

No, he wasn’t. For all the horrors they had seen outside of the monastery walls, at least war had helped Sylvain gain some perspective. “That’s not how I meant it.”

“If that’s not how you meant it, then don’t do it!” Felix snapped, turning away. 

Sylvain attempted to dart around him, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to explain, but as soon as he was in front of Felix, a punch to the center of his chest sent him reeling. As quickly as he could, Sylvain regained his footing and threw his arm out, grabbing onto Felix’s collar. “Felix, sto—”

A leg swept out, catching Sylvain behind the knees. It sent him buckling. Jaw tightly clenched, Sylvain wheeled Felix around as he fell, forcing them both down to the ground. Felix hit the ground first, immediately hooking a leg around Sylvain to flip them over. Sylvain used the momentum, throwing his weight toward his shoulder, rolling them across the dirt until they hit a pillar at the edge of the grounds. Sylvain was larger than Felix, but he knew he had only managed to pin him down because Felix was already exhausted. Felix had handed Sylvain’s ass to him nearly every time they had trained together, with only luck and sly charms helping Sylvain escape defeat over Felix’s sheer determination. 

Felix’s tawny eyes flashed with frustration in the darkness. “What do you want, Sylvain?!”

“I want you to stop harming yourself.”

Felix’s expression twisted into one of disbelief. “What?!”

“I’ve seen you out on the battlefields, Fe. What’s made you so reckless?” 

“Reckless?” Felix repeated, shoving his fists up against Sylvain’s chest in a futile attempt to push him off. “The only time I’m reckless is when I’m trying to save you from having your head separated from your neck!”

“At what point does that come in when you’re beating a dummy so hard you can’t hold onto your sword anymore?” Sylvain asked, nodding out toward the lightning burn marking the ground. “What’s gotten into you? Are you that pissed off that your childhood crush has lost his mind?”

Felix’s irritation morphed into revulsion, his grimace setting further into his face. “My childhood crush?” he said, laughing dryly. “That beast you’re all still mindlessly following? Your head really must be empty.”

“Then what is it?” Sylvain questioned, curling his fingers into the fabric at the base of Felix’s throat. “If it’s not him, who are you fighting for? I know you’re not here out of a sense of duty. Who’s worth wrecking yourself for, Fe? Annette? The professor?”

The smirk that clouded Felix’s mouth was disingenuous. He managed to unpin one of his legs out from under Sylvain, pulling it in to press the bone of his knee into Sylvain’s stomach. The position was precarious, both of them ready to throw the next strike. “Are you really that blind? That stupid?” Felix asked, incredulous. “Whose side have I stuck by, through this entire goddamn bloodbath?! Whose skin is it I’m saving, every time I’m being reckless? Tell me, Sylvain! Which damn fool is it that I’m trying to keep myself alive for, even though he can’t see what’s directly in front of him?!”

Sylvain did not ask for confirmation. He kept his grip tight at Felix’s throat and slipped his other hand around to cradle the back of Felix’s head, giving neither of them the chance to pull away. The way his mouth crashed against Felix’s was unideal; their teeth clashed together and for a brief moment, the taste in Sylvain’s mouth was metallic. However, the half gasp that left Felix’s mouth and flooded his was far too sweet. 

There was a chance he had been wrong. Felix had never shown interest in much beyond perfecting his swordsmanship—certainly never in the realm of romance. If Sylvain was chased for his possession of a minor crest, the type of attention Felix received for his major one would be unparalleled. Yet Sylvain had never heard him complain of it nor witnessed Felix with anything more than a letter of proposal from another house of nobility, which he would promptly shred. Now, Sylvain might have his answer as to why. 

The knee that had been digging into Sylvain’s stomach dropped away, and the breath that Sylvain had been holding swelled inside his chest when Felix’s fingers wound into his hair. His grip was rough and unforgiving, holding Sylvain in place as Felix kissed him back. Felix’s lips moved against his own, parted and seeking guidance. 

Sylvain was eager to give it, the deafening drumming of his heartbeat drowning out every other sound but that of the soft sigh that fell from Felix. With a groan of triumph, Sylvain pulled back but not away. He sat up, bringing Felix with him, not daring to break away lest it result in waking from an unhaunted dream. He brought Felix into his lap, hitching him in as the dust stirred up around them. For all of Felix’s rigidity and sobriety, his lips were soft and his body warm. Then, Felix’s tongue slipped into his mouth and everything else was erased from his mind.

He had thought, if he ever had the chance to kiss Felix, that he would be the one to make the other fall apart. Instead, Felix took possession of his mouth, driving Sylvain to chase the kiss deeper. They parted for a moment, quivering lips hovering too close together as they exchanged the air between them. Sylvain had no chance to speak, as the moment he had managed to form a single thought, Felix’s mouth was back over his own. 

As desperation grew between their kisses, Sylvain let his arms drop, skimming his hands across Felix’s waist. He untucked the fabric of Felix’s undershirt, sliding his hands beneath it and the vest Felix wore. Felix’s skin was silken, untouched by the same scars that now marred much of Sylvain’s, left behind by weapons he had not had the speed or sense to avoid. Wanting to feel more of it, Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix and held him close.

Felix’s hands fumbled down Sylvain’s chest, tugging at his clothing until it was unkempt enough for him to slip his hands under the layers, his fingers splaying over Sylvain’s bared stomach. 

There was a buzzing in Sylvain’s head, much like that of a few good drinks. His abdomen flexed in reaction to Felix’s touch, sparks firing and pooling in his gut. Sylvain’s teeth dug gently into the flesh of Felix’s full lower lip, wanting to memorize the taste and feel of his mouth in case the chance to experience it never came again. They both might just come to their senses once they broke away. 

Felix arched and rose slightly from Sylvain’s lap, changing the angle between them. Sylvain pursued him, tilting his head back to meet the needy kisses Felix dropped against his mouth. His hands traced the ridges of Felix’s spine, then fell further, grasping onto the firm curves of Felix’s ass. With how many times they had trained together, bathed together, changed into their battle gear together, Sylvain had the lines of Felix’s body committed to memory—but touching him like this had been reserved for only his most desperate fantasies. 

It was only when Felix’s fingers dipped beneath the waistline of Sylvain’s trousers that he forced himself to pull away. “Felix, wait…”

The laugh that came in response was curt. “Wait?” Felix asked. He drew his hands up, but did not take them back in toward himself. “With you, of all people? We could die tomorrow and you want to wait? I’ve already been waiting, for years.” 

Sylvain should not have been shocked. Felix never did anything in parts, always barreling ahead as soon as his plans were set. Sylvain shook his head, taking both of Felix’s hands into his own. “This isn’t that—this is... different. Fe, I—”

"Stop." Felix cut him off, silencing his words. “I know. Don’t say it. Not now.”

If not now, then when? Sylvain could have argued, but he could not recall the last time he had won an argument with Felix, the only person who could shut him up with a glare and a click of his sharp tongue. He had his chance to hold onto Felix, and he was not going to be stupid enough to lose it by starting up another brawl. 

Gripping Felix’s hands, Sylvain pulled both of them to their feet and off the training grounds. If Felix voiced a surprised protest, Sylvain ignored it, leading him up the nearby staircase. His feet tripped over the top steps in his nervous rush, but the soft chuckle at his back and the squeeze around his fingers cleansed him of embarrassment. 

The bathhouse was empty in the early morning hours. Sylvain tugged Felix past the changing rooms and the wooden structure of the sauna to where the stone-lined pools were perpetually warm from the water of the hot springs beneath the monastery. His heart was once again loud in his ears as he began to strip off the layers of Felix’s clothing, his trembling fingers snagging on the buttons of the vest. When he dragged the belt off his waist and set aside Felix’s sword, it went down less than gracefully, clanging against the rocks beneath their feet. 

Felix laughed, the sound of it unfamiliar and melodic. “So this is your legendary seduction? I’m not impressed.”

Sylvain’s mouth went dry, his mind spinning to scramble up a comeback and coming up empty. He did the next best thing he could think of and jerked Felix in against him, loosening his twisted tongue against that of Felix’s. Out of instinct, Felix’s fists bunched against Sylvain’s chest before melting, fingers spreading over Sylvain’s skin. 

Their clothing was left behind, not where it was meant to be, but far enough from the water’s edge to keep it from being dampened. The lamps inside burned dimly, the oil in them soon to need replenishing, but Sylvain only noticed the glow they cast across Felix’s pale skin. They rinsed the dust of the training grounds from each other’s skin and Sylvain pulled the band from Felix’s hair, letting it fall loose around his shoulders. “You’re so beautiful.”

Felix’s face went red, the color spreading up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Sylvain had always found it gorgeous—more so now, if he were permitted to continue to cause it. A flustered Felix was a rare and treasured sight. 

“Shut up,” Felix muttered, proceeding to shut Sylvain up himself through a crushing kiss. 

Sylvain did not want to lose his advantage. He swept Felix off his feet and into his arms, carrying him down into the water of the hot springs. Garreg Mach had proven to be a marvelous safe haven in so many ways, from the high walls that had yet to crumble to the water that allowed them to ease the soreness in their muscles after long treks and hard battles. Sylvain had one more such blessing in his lap, Felix’s back pressed to his chest as they sank down into the heat of the water. 

Felix had told him not to wait, so Sylvain didn’t. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the expanse of Felix’s shoulders and up the smooth length of his neck, murmuring sweet words that went unacknowledged. His hands slid around to knead at bared thighs, before taking hold of Felix’s half-hard cock. 

The first touch was electric. Felix stiffened against him, but Sylvain did not miss the soft moan that fell from his lips. His own mouth continued to work at Felix’s neck, leaving a mark under the curve of his jaw as he slowly stroked Felix’s cock. It grew heavy in his hand, just as Sylvain’s own grew heavy pressed against Felix’s lower back. 

When Felix craned back, tipping his head onto Sylvain’s shoulder, Sylvain swallowed the sighs and mewls from his lips. Felix’s tongue was as hot as the water, and the firmness of his body as it rested against Sylvain warmed him from the outside in. Felix moaned into the kiss, his hips jerking when Sylvain rolled his thumb across the reddened tip, smearing the precum building there. 

At least here, Sylvain could take the lead and make Felix writhe through his touch, or so he thought. Felix shifted in his lap, wiggling back and reaching down between his thighs. Sylvain went dumb as Felix’s long and slender fingers wrapped around his cock, guiding it between his thighs, which he then closed around it. 

For all of Sylvain’s so-called experience, he had never felt like this before. His nerves were on fire as his cock was trapped between the toned muscles of Felix’s thighs and cradled by the velvet of his balls. With each of Sylvain’s strokes, the vibrations ran down and had him on the verge of gasping. His moans spilled freely when Felix’s thighs tensed and quivered, transferring the waves of ecstasy. With one such simple action, Felix had successfully driven him mad, Sylvain’s thoughts ablaze with the image of how it would feel to sheath his cock in Felix’s body. 

Sylvain let his forehead drop onto Felix’s shoulder, wrapping an arm low around his abdomen to keep Felix close. He thrust up between Felix’s godly thighs, groaning as he jerked him off, hunting for the right pace and the right rhythm that would reduce his partner into a shuddering mess. 

As the soft noises they exchanged and drank off one another’s lips grew frayed, Felix twisted around, turning to face Sylvain fully. He snaked one arm around Sylvain’s neck, bumping their foreheads together as they gazed down between them. Felix’s right hand found Sylvain’s beneath the surface of the water, joining him in stroking their cocks, their fingers lacing together over them both. “Come for me, Sylvain...”

In a moment like this, Sylvain would give Felix absolutely anything that he wanted. He came in spurts, pearls of white mixing into the clear water. Felix found his own release moments later, his fingers seizing into Sylvain’s hair and sparking a pleasant sort of pain through his scalp in response. 

They each caught their breath on the other’s lips. Once Sylvain had calmed enough to speak, he tried once again to give his confession. “Felix—”

A hand covered his mouth, Felix refusing him the chance for a second time. “I said don’t.” 

Sylvain kissed his palm again, noticing that the red irritation of the spell had faded. “We could die tomorrow,” Sylvain echoed Felix’s words from earlier, smiling in the moment of levity. “I have to say it.”

Felix shook his head. “Tell me when this is all over. And not until then. When we get through it,” he hesitated, soft color returning to his cheeks before he added the word “together” in a mutter. 

There was an obvious flaw in Felix’s plan, but Sylvain chose not to make a point of it. Instead, he cupped Felix’s face in his hands and stroked his thumbs across Felix’s sharp cheekbones. He drew in for another kiss, softer and sweeter than all those before it. “Then you have to continue helping me keep my head on my neck.”

“I will,” Felix said, tasting Sylvain’s words on his lips. “For as long as I have mine.” 

“Then I’ll make it through just fine, won’t I?” Sylvain smiled. “Will you come to my room? Dawn’s almost here, but…” Sylvain trailed off to Felix nodding his head, and that was enough. 

Perhaps together, they could hold off the nightmares for just a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr, [@lucycamui](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/), or twitter, also [@lucycamui](https://twitter.com/lucycamui)


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